The Miles Between Us (22 page)

Casey

The morning sun’s rays crept through slotted blinds and fell in alternating patterns of light and shadow on the bed where they lay. Beside her, Rob slept still and hard, the way he always did. She envied him that ability. Even after something as stressful as a mugging, he was able to fall asleep—and stay asleep—while she lay awake, pondering the mysteries of the universe and stewing about things that were unlikely to ever happen.

It was
simply the way they were wired. Three years of marriage had taught her a few things she hadn’t known about the man who’d been her best friend for two decades. Living together, sleeping together, had highlighted their differences. He hated to be hot; she hated to be cold. Driving anywhere together was a running battle between the heater and the air conditioner. She carried a sweater everywhere, even during the hot summer months. Rob, on the other hand, spent most of those same months stripped to a level just this side of indecent. They fell asleep at night in each other’s arms, but by morning, her husband was hugging the edge of the mattress in order to escape her body heat.

It all averaged out
. They might have differences, but they both loved Led Zeppelin’s
Stairway to Heaven
, and he’d introduced her, decades ago, to the music of Billie Holiday. That common ground trumped all differences.

She loved to watch him sleep
. Naked, he lay face down, arms folded beneath his head, his covers long since discarded, the faint zebra striping from the blinds giving him an exotic look. He needed a haircut. Although he’d had the wild tangle of curls sheared off before Emma was born, he hadn’t really tamed them. Now that he was wearing his hair short, it always looked good for a week or two after each cut before reverting back to its natural state of wild abandon.

Rob MacKenzie
was a good-looking man. She knew he didn’t believe that, but then he seemed incapable of seeing himself the way she saw him. He wasn’t handsome in the way Danny had been, with his summer-sky eyes and smoldering good looks. Rob’s face was open and friendly and painted with a depth of character that had been missing in her first husband. Every line, every imperfection, told a story. His green eyes were warm and inviting and honest. He expected the best out of people, and he usually got it.

And women fell at his feet.

She moved closer in order to study his tattoo. The redness and the swelling had disappeared, and although she hadn’t yet tested her theory, it appeared as though most of the pain had left with them. She touched her lips, gentle as a feather, to the letters printed on his bicep. Her name. He didn’t react. Feeling bold, she took a gentle nibble from his arm, a couple of inches below the tattoo.

“
Mmm,” he said.

She took another bite, this time from his side
. He growled low in his throat, but she couldn’t translate it. Was it a growl of pleasure, or of irritation?

More boldly, she threw a leg over him and slithered on top of him, straddling that cute, round little ass
. She ran the fingers of both hands up the center of his spine to his shoulders, then began working the muscles with her fingertips. “Mmn,” he said again. “Is that you, Esmerelda?”

She gave him a hard little smack and continued kneading
.

“
Hortense?” he said. “Raquel? Rapunzel?”

“Funny boy.”

He turned his head to one side, smacked his lips, stretched his arms. “Morning, wife.”

She stopped kneading and said, “Good morning, my gorgeous, sexy man.”

“Don’t stop. It feels good.”

“That’s the general idea.”

“Right there. Knotted muscle. You have magic hands. So what did I do to deserve this?”

“I’ve been thinking
. About what you said last night, before we were so rudely interrupted by our larcenous new friend.”

Outside the window,
a pair of birds called brightly back and forth. “And?”

“I
’ve decided that you’re right. The way we’re living isn’t working for us. We’ve both been holding out on general principles, to prove the validity of our respective points. But the truth is that we’re only punishing ourselves. And that’s a sad, stupid thing. So I’m going to consent—” She ran the heel of her hand up the smooth, warm flesh of his back. “—to using condoms while we work this situation out. But I refuse to use anything more permanent than that, and we’ll have to continue discussions until we reach a reasonable solution we both can agree to.”

“Anybody ever tell you that you’d make a good lawyer?”

“What?”

“Nothing
. Keep going.”

“
What else do you want me to say?”

“Not the mouth
. The hands.”

“Oh.
” Hiding a brief smile, she continued her ministrations, digging deep into knotted muscle, eventually drawing her palms down his back in long, smooth strokes. He shifted beneath her, dislodged her, and rolled onto his back. On hands and knees above him, she leaned down, her dark hair a curtain that surrounded them, and kissed him. He deepened the kiss, swept a hand down her bare back to her tailbone, and pulled her down on top of him.

And everything inside her went liquid. It had been so long, too long, since
they’d been together like this. Still kissing, they rolled, slow and hot and languid. He reached out an arm and blindly punched buttons on the clock radio beside the bed until soft music filled the room. Foreigner’s
I Want to Know What Love Is
. Sound insulation. His body a heavy weight that pinned her down, he explored her with his mouth, his hands. She nipped his shoulder, his Adam’s apple, and he cupped her breast, drew it into his mouth, and suckled gently on the sensitive peak.

She wrapped a leg around him,
rolled his hips as he gave the same delightful attention to her other breast. “Hot mama,” he said, and she laughed and dragged his mouth back to hers.

Their
kisses were hot and wet and unhurried. “I know what love is,” he said, his words a warm gust of breath against her neck.

“
Must you? Do I really have to put up with the song lyric thing again?”

“Humor me,
Fiore. Just humor me.”

“Fine
,” she said. “So tell me, great oracle. What is love?”

He
cradled her head in his hands, locked his gaze with hers, and planted a gentle kiss at the corner of her mouth. “Love is better at forty,” he said, and plunged hot and slick inside her, “than it was at twenty.”

“Oh, baby,” she said
. “You are so right.”

* * *

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “I can’t believe I forgot the frigging condom.”

“It was my irresistible charm that sidetracked you.”

“You did it on purpose. You manipulated me. I hope you’re happy.”

They lay together in a slick, sweaty tangle
, his leg wrapped around hers, her cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat strong beneath her ear. She pursed her lips and blew a gentle stream of air down the center of his chest, stirring the inexplicably dark vee of hair that grew there. “Shut up,” she said. “You’re distracting me.”

Lazily, he said,
“From?”

“From basking in the afterglow. Right now, I’m purring like a fat, satisfied cat.”

He ran a hand down her side, knuckles stroking her bare thigh. Pausing mid-stroke, he said, “So this little, um…pussycat…got exactly what she wanted?”

“
Oh, stop. You’re being crude. I hate it when you’re crude.”

“
Liar. You love it when I’m crude. Especially when I’m a-rockin’ and a-rollin’ you.”

“Circumstances, my friend.” She pre
ssed a kiss to his damp skin. “Circumstances.”

“So in other words, the minute the rockin’ and rollin’ is over, you go back to being Miss Priss.”

“Behave,” she said, nuzzling that wonderful, springy chest hair, “or I’ll take a chunk out of your flesh.”

“Giving all new meaning to the term
bite me
.”

“I’
d forgotten what it felt like. Can you believe that? It’s been so long that I’d actually forgotten.”

“You forgot what sex felt like?”

“Not sex, fool. But the way you make me feel when we do it. I’d forgotten your amazing and inspiring ability to rock my world. As a matter of fact, my memory seems to be getting hazy again. I might need another reminder.”

“As much as it pains me to say this, I
’ll have to take a rain check. I need to be at the studio by eight-thirty, and before I leave for work, I want to call the DMV and ask them to issue me a new driver’s license. It would be really nice if they could put a rush on it.”

She’d almost forgotten
. His words were a solemn reminder of that empty spot on her left-hand ring finger. She closed her eyes, let out a sigh, and just floated. In spite of his words, neither of them made a move to get up. “We have to talk about it,” he said. “At some point, we have to talk about it.”

“
About what happened last night?”

“About what we just did. Without protection.
It was a stupid move on both our parts.”

“Don’t spoil
this. Please don’t spoil it. We can talk about it tonight. Right now, I just want to lie here a little longer and hold you.”

“
Couple of minutes. Then I really have to get up.”

“
I’ll make you breakfast while you shower.”

“
Emma’s still sleeping. You should stay in bed. We were up late.”

“And early.”

She felt, rather than heard, his soft laugh. “And early. So that means you should stay in bed and sleep a little longer. Once Emma’s up, all bets are off.”

“I’ll have plenty of time for sleeping in my old age
. I’d rather cook breakfast for you.”

“A man can’t argue with that.”
He tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of her neck and tilted her head so he could see her eyes. “Are you okay after last night? Really?”

“I am.
Really. It felt so surreal, and it happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to be frightened. I was outraged, more than anything. How dare he take everything from us that wasn’t nailed down?”

“Like I said last night, you’re a tough old broad.”

“Thank you. I think.”

They shared a long, sweet kiss, and then he
ran his hand down her body, gave her a sound smack on her bare rump, and said, “Up and at ‘em, wench. This boy needs breakfast.”

* * *

By the time he came into the kitchen, cradling the cordless phone between ear and shoulder while rolling up his shirt sleeves, she had eggs, bacon and toast waiting. He moved directly to the cupboard, took out a cup, and poured coffee into it. Stirring milk and sugar into the cup, he rolled his eyes. “On hold,” he mouthed. Then he straightened up, suddenly alert. “Yeah,” he said into the phone, “this is Rob MacKenzie. I live in Jackson Falls, I’m in New York right now, and last night, my wallet was stolen. I need you to mail me a new driver’s license. No, that won’t work. I need you to mail it here. To New York. We’re living here temporari—yeah, okay. I’ll hold.”

“Sit,” she said, and put his plate on the table
.

He carried his coffee cup to the table, sat,
dumped salt, pepper and ketchup over his eggs. “You eating?” he said.

“Later
. The baby will be up any minute. Do you think Phoenix will be on time this morning?”

“
Hard to say. The kid likes to party, and he doesn’t like to listen to me.” Rob tucked into his eggs like a man who hadn’t eaten in a month.

“The two of you last night,” she said, “you sounded wonderful.”

“You know, that’s something I’ve been meaning to—yeah, hi.” He set down his fork, listened to the person at the other end of the phone. A matched set of grooves sprang to life on either side of his mouth. “I understand that,” he said, “but I’m in a bind here. I’m out of town, I’m here with my wife’s car, and I really don’t want to—uh huh. Right. I absolutely understand your point of view. But I can’t drive without a license, I’m four states away from home, and—fine.”

Scowling, he told Casey, “They put me on hold again
. Goddamn bureaucratic red tape. They can’t mail it to New York. It has to go to the address that’s printed on it.”

“You told Drew last night that
we’d only be here a few more days.”

“
How the hell am I supposed to drive in the meantime?”

“How many times have we taken the car out since we got here?”

“I don’t like feeling trapped. I—yes. Hi. How can you help me? Funny you should ask. I need a new driver’s license, that’s how you can help me.” He paused, listened. “That would be just peachy, y’know, but I’m three hundred miles away. Uh huh. Photo I.D.? I don’t have a freaking photo I.D. I already explained this to the first woman I talked to. My wallet was stolen last night. My wife and I were mugged. We’re in New York City. The only photo I.D. I had was my license, and—” He stopped abruptly and rubbed at his temple. “You know what? I don’t have time for this right now. I have to be at work in twenty minutes. I’ll take care of this in person, when I get home next week. In the meantime, don’t hold me responsible for driving without a license. Because that’s exactly what I’m planning to do!”